


Telling (My) Story

by ByTheDawn



Series: 300challenge [20]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByTheDawn/pseuds/ByTheDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the #300Challenge, based off of the title prompt. Emma drunk dials Regina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telling (My) Story

“’Gina!” The outcry of her name by a perky blonde on the other end of the telephone line was enough to sour the already murderous mood Regina was in after being called awake at four AM in the morning. She’d reached for the phone blindly to shut it up and had accepted the call just in case anything was wrong with Henry, but it didn’t sound like anything was wrong at all, accept maybe Emma’s blood to alcohol ratio.

“Miss Swan, I see your incessant need to call me has now extended into the early morning hours?” Regina verbally stabbed, making use of the Savior’s last name like she used to do when frustrated with Henry’s other mother.

“Hey! ‘s not cool. ‘t’s Emma, Emma Swan, _Madam Mayor_ , and I didn’t call you, you called me! Why did you call me Regina?” Emma slurred, and Regina pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Fine, _Emma_ , listen to me very carefully before I hang up. You are drunk, and you called me, not the other way around. I was sleeping, in my bed—very peacefully I might add—until you called me so unless there is anything wrong with either yourself or Henry, I am going to end this call, turn around and pretend this never happened.” Regina thundered quietly, already settling back down on her side in preparation of the continuation of her night’s rest.

“No! Don’t hang up!” Emma begged, and Regina winced at the sound of something getting knocked over and shattering into a million pieces. It was silent a moment, and Regina was about to set aside her frustration for worry when Emma’s voice returned to the other end of the line. “All good! I’m good! Might have slain a vase, though...”

Regina rolled her eyes emphatically, but couldn’t suppress the light smile that overtook her features. Here in the dark, no one would be able to see her give in to the fact that she considered clumsy and childlike Emma to be one of the cutest things she had ever seen. She imagined Emma in her rented room, brandishing her sword against an innocent vase, and felt her stomach drop when she realized a very drunk Emma was most likely brandishing a sword. She mellowed her voice when she next addressed the woman on the other end of the line.

“Emma, are you holding your sword?” She asked carefully, and Emma giggled.

“Yes! I am the Savior!” She answered proudly, then cut off Regina’s words before she could get a word in about putting the thing down. “Although it sucks being the Savior… I just wanted to be happy, you know? Have my family? My mom, and my dad, and Henry, and not another baby. I just wanted not to be alone anymore…”

Emma’s voice had turned small and miserable, and Regina felt her heart clench, any frustration over being called awake so early fading in light of the vulnerability Emma was displaying. Regina realized she should end the conversation before Emma revealed anything more to her that she would never tell her in the light of day, but Emma also seemed to enjoy letting all of this out, and the truth was that Regina wanted to be there for her. She understood being lonely, after all, and wanting family.

“You have your family, Emma. You have David and Mary Margaret, and Henry—” A stab of jealousy at that, but she let it go. “Now, why don’t you put your sword down and lie on the bed? We’ll talk for a bit, alright?”

The sound of stumbling, then a heavy clank as the weight of the sword hit something solid wood. A pause and then a happy sigh.

“Okay, done. What’d you wanna talk ‘bout?” Emma slurred, and Regina smiled despite herself. She had tried for so long to be mad at the blonde, and the woman had made it so easy for her, but they had grown together over the months and if Regina was completely truthful with herself—something always easier to do in the dark of the night—she couldn’t imagine life without Emma anymore. Letting her go had been equally painful as letting go of her son… and Regina had refused to examine why that was ever since. It seemed Emma felt it too, though, at least a little, because she trusted her implicitly. Even now, in her compromised state, she took Regina’s advice without question. It gave the brunette hope for something she didn’t even dare formulate in her mind, let alone put to words.

“Why does it ‘suck’ to be the Savior?” She asked gently, not meaning to intrude on Emma’s private thoughts, but Emma seemed to be fussing about the topic. It was only fair Regina give her the opportunity to speak about it.

“’t sucks!” Emma repeated vehemently, and the next vision that hit Regina’s mind was of a fully clothed Savior on her bed in the room at the inn, surrounded by empty bottles of spirits, staring into the near dark. Regina knew Henry was with Mary Margaret and David tonight—her knowing Henry’s whereabouts was part of the deal she’d made with Emma until Henry’s memories returned, and while it pained her that Emma’s ‘friends’ got to have Henry sleep over and not her, she had accepted the information without making a fuss. If she didn’t make a fuss, she had the highest chance of spending time with Henry soon, after all.

“Tell me about it.” Regina encouraged, and Emma huffed.

“Everyone always _wants_ things from you, and you have to be all ‘grown-up-y’ while doing it and every time something is good, it just goes to shit. There is a portal, or some dream world with flames, or dragons or a curse… oh, or someone you love turns out to be a monkey or their dad and then they die. I hate being the Savior and I don’t wanna do it anymore. I just don’t wanna do it anymore… can’t someone else do it? They can have my sword and _they_ can deal with all this fairy-tale, Wicked Witch, bullshit…” Emma’s voice had turned fragile, and Regina finally sat up, finally realizing this drunk dial had gotten a lot more serious than she’d given it credit for at first glance.

Emma had opted to have Henry sleep over with Mary Margaret and David tonight—two days after the funeral—to decompress, but she had obviously decompressed a little bit too much. Neal’s death had shook something loose in Emma, Regina knew. She’d been able to see it at the funeral where she—admittedly—had spent more time minding Emma than the funeral itself. The blonde had always been resistant of her destiny, but the more people got hurt or killed while she was trying to figure out what she was supposed to do, the more Emma resisted it. Oh, she was taking all the necessary steps, but Regina could tell that deep down, Emma was still on the verge of running away from this entire mess. It were only her ties to her family keeping her here—along with patrolling monkey’s—because New York City obviously still sounded appealing to her.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way…” Regina answered gently, and Emma sniffed. Regina’s heart clenched dangerously when she realized Emma was muffling her crying. “Emma, dear… you are not alone. I know how you feel right now—or at least I am familiar with part of your pain—and I know it feels like nothing will ever make sense again… but it will. One day, you’ll wake up and it won’t hurt so much anymore, one day, you will be ready to open your heart again for someone else.”

“Don’t want no smelly pirate who doesn’t change his clothes.” Emma huffed, and Regina couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of her.

“It doesn’t have to be a pirate, dear.” She answered, and ignored the tremble inside of her as her own words settled heavily around her heart. Opening her heart again… after Daniel… a strong-jawed bandit came to mind a moment, only to be replaced instantly by blonde curls and a cheesy smile. She forced the treacherous thoughts down immediately, and clamped her jaw and eyes tightly shut until the storm of emotions inside of her died down again.

“…and it doesn’t have to be now. There are many things to worry about now, but your love life will figure itself out, regardless. I promise. Now… why don’t you take off your shoes if you haven’t already and get under the covers? Perhaps it’s time to sleep?” Regina suggested, suddenly anxious to end the conversation before she became too emotionally invested in it and her own thoughts. Again, there was the sound of stumbling, then two thuds as boots connected with the floor.

“Okay, done. Have a good night ‘Gina.” Emma said, and yawned, causing Regina to smile a full smile in the privacy of her bedroom.

“If you remember this conversation in the morning, feel free to talk to me again then, alright?” Regina said softly, knowing full well that in the light of day, they were both too emotionally guarded to have this conversation. She wanted to put it out there, regardless. They were developing a… friendship, slowly, and if anything, Regina wanted to encourage that as much as possible. Treacherous feelings aside, she had come to appreciate Emma, and to hear her so hurt was painful, especially because she understood her pain so well.

“Okay… sorry for calling you…” Emma’s voice was already sleepy, and Regina realized she would soon be asleep entirely. She _could_ let the moment go by, not say anything, but that wasn’t what she wanted to do. What she wanted to do was _connect_ like they had been doing lately.

“You may call me any time, Emma. I quite enjoy the time we spent together.” She answered softly, and received a mumbled reply in return before silence set in on the other end of the line. She listened quietly until the sound of light snoring reached her ears, and then ended the call with an emotional smile on her features. She stared at the phone long moments as she tried to get control of the swirling mess of emotions inside her body, then lay down the phone again before settling herself. She was awake for a long time, running the conversation through her mind over and over, and found herself stuck between hoping Emma would remember—would bring it up—and begging for her not to. If Emma ever confronted her on her feelings for the blonde, Regina wouldn’t be able to lie to herself anymore—let alone Emma—and that thought was absolutely petrifying… petrifying and yet so very desirable.


End file.
